Twists and Turns of Fate
by iluvmylowandbaseball
Summary: Gangs, heroes, villains, loyalty, betrayal, chains and guns. Young Michael Scofield is drawn into the world of his only brother to help them both survive and protect the people they love.


**Title:** Twists and Turns of Fate

**Author:** iluvmylowandbaseball

**Rating: **R

**Warnings: **Original Characters, Pre-Series, Drugs, Alcohol, Violence, Sexual Situations, Alternate Universe

**Summary: **Gangs, heroes, villains, loyalty, betrayal, chains and guns. Young Michael Scofield is drawn into the world of his only brother to help them both survive and protect the people they love.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Never have, never will. I would be honored to, though.

**(A/N):** I saw an _Explore_ episode on the National Geographic Channel about MS-13, a Latin gang that originated in Los Angeles and spread into Central and South America. This made me think, "It would be cool for one of the brothers to be involved in a gang." Of course, it has to be Lincoln. One, because he's the oldest, and two, because he seems as if he would be more into gangs than Michael. Don't worry. There _will_ be gang action for Michael.

I did research on White Chicago gangs, therefore I'm not making the names up. Amundsen is (or was) a high school in Chicago. This is Michael's school now and was Lincoln's. Lincoln's gang is the Chicago Gaylords, Chicago's most notorious gang. Thanks to Wikipedia for the information.

One more note (**an important one**). Because this is an AU fic, I'm making Michael an athlete. He's a baseball player. (Sorry; I'm obsessed with baseball; it's my favorite sport). Don't worry; there will not be any games on here (unless you want one). But there will be instances where he is sweaty from playing. Who doesn't like that?

-----

Her hair is curtaining his face. Her dirty blonde hair is curtaining his face and her lips are sucking the air out of him.

He tries not to let it bother him but the fact that he can't breathe is life-threatening. And Michael has never admired life-threatening situations.

He recalls, not too long ago, when his brother entered their two-room apartment at three in the morning, smelling of smoke and tailed by Jerry.

Oh, he recalls that well.

"_Don't do it and you _know_ what's gonna happen, Linc." Jerry slams the door behind him and taps his foot impatiently._

"_Yeah? What?" Lincoln asks, a satiric chuckle accompanying his question. _

"_We'll kill you," Jerry states simply, exhaling heavily. "Langston won't like that. He trusts you."_

"_Yeah, well, Langston can just kiss my ass 'cause I'm not the man for the job." He stumbles over the rug, landing on the couch._

"_He can't just ask anybody, Linc. You're the guy."_

"_I'm not the guy anymore, Jerry." Lincoln rubs his temples, shuts his eyes and slumps his back. "Leave."_

"_Not until you tell me you're going to do this. If you don't, you know what I have to do." Jerry's hand quickly goes to his waist._

"_Fuck off, Jerry." A gun quickly appears, pointed directly at Lincoln and he grunts, standing. "Don't kid."_

"_I'm not," he growls. His finger caresses the gun's trigger as he licks his lips. "Don't make me do this."_

"_I'm not making you. You're choosing this."_

"_Just tell me you're going and I'll leave," Jerry demands._

"_No."_

"_I don't want to do this."_

"_Don't."_

"_You're giving me no choice, Lincoln."_

"_Come on, Jerry. You wouldn't do this to me. You know I have a brother to take care of. He's only sixteen."_

"_Do this and I won't have to."_

_Lincoln sinks to the couch once more, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I can't believe this. They've never done anything to me. Why should I get on their bad side now?"_

"_Because they got on ours. They're gonna pay, Linc. It's just the way it is."_

_He looks up, guilt written all over his face. "Tomorrow."_

"Amy," he breathes into her mouth, entangling his tongue with hers, breathing still slightly lapsed. Deciding to take charge of the situation, he flips them over on his bed, his hand fingering her panty line under her skirt's waistband.

She writhes under him, hands framing his face and keeping his lips close. His fingers tickle her tanned skin and he pulls his mouth back slightly, dropping a kiss on her cheek before burying his face in her smooth neck.

"Oh, God," Amy moans into Michael's ear as he bites her skin. Trailing his lips down her collarbone, he meets the fabric of her collared shirt and he straddles her waist, pulling back to undo the buttons. She helps him pull the garment off her body and he lets her trail her hands up his chest as she pushes his T-shirt over his head.

He takes her hands in his and presses them to his lips before leaning over to kiss her lips passionately. Her clothed breasts press against his chest and he urges to remove the obstructing fabric.

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind, attempting to concentrate on her lips. Her soft, full lips that haven't touched any but his. Her lips on his cheeks. Her lips on his neck and his hands rubbing her thigh beneath her skirt.

As a moan vibrates in his throat from the feel of her hands on his lower back, he knows it's more than he can handle. Her fingers dip below the waist of his jeans and boxers and he wonders how she knows what to do, considering he's her alleged first boyfriend.

Blowing the thought off, Michael gently grabs Amy's face and pulls her lips to his, using his fingers to tickle her cheeks as her fingers relax above his waist and her thumbs hook the belt loops of his jeans. She hums into his mouth and slows the kiss deliberately, pulling back to stare at him shyly, blood quickly rushing to her cheeks. He traces her blush with his thumbs admiringly.

"I'm sorry. It's just…" she sighs, frustrated. "We've only dated a few months."

"It's fine," Michael concedes, bending over to kiss her lightly. "I understand." She broods momentarily before smiling, her almost perfectly white teeth catching the little sunlight seeping through the window blinds.

"We should go to the party tomorrow."

Shaking his head, he grins. "You know I don't do that."

"Michael, please? I won't make you go to another one, ever again." Her bottom lip overlaps her top one in a pout and he kisses it away.

"I don't do parties," he states offhandedly, sitting up straight and getting off her body.

"Please?" she attempts again and he shakes his head once more.

"I should take you home now, huh?"

Eyes narrowing, Amy stands and folds her arms over her chest indignantly. "Not until you say 'yes'."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep," she replies, a trace of a smile on her face.

"Okay." Michael rises nonchalantly and walks around her, opening his bedroom door and ambling into the living room. He can hear her pout from the kitchen as he turns towards the room again, observing her from afar before launching his body into her own, tackling her to the bed.

"Mike!" she yelps, laughing as he presses his lips to hers. "That hurt."

"Now can I take you home?"

----

"Hey," Michael greets as he enters the apartment an hour later.

"What's up?" Lincoln replies, moving a pan from the stove to the countertop.

"Use a holder. You don't want to mess up the counter." Michael, locking the door behind him, slips out of his shoes and pads into the adjoined kitchen.

"Can't find it."

"Under the sink."

"I knew that," Lincoln says imprudently, bending over and turning his eyes to Michael warily. "Where were you?"

"I had to take Amy home before her dad upbraided me."

"Fancy-free zone, Michael. Fancy-free zone."

Pulling a stool from under the breakfast bar, Michael chuckles and observes Lincoln as he scoops macaroni from the pan onto two plates. "Hamburger Helper again?"

Pointing a wooden spoon at the teenager, Lincoln glares. "Don't mock. I'm the one that works here."

"Only because you don't want me to help."

"You're seventeen. You don't need to help. You need to focus on school so you can go to college. You need to spend Sunday mornings at church and nights at dinner with your girlfriend. Make a good impression on your girlfriend's parents so they don't want to kill you. That's what you _need_ to do."

Rolling his eyes, the seventeen-year-old sighs and requests, "Can I have my food?"

"So, how's school?" Lincoln questions, turning to deposit Michael's plate and utensils on the bar's surface while segueing into a new subject.

"Normal," Michael replies around a mouthful of Bacon Cheeseburger Macaroni.

"How normal?" Lincoln sets a plate on the placemat next to his brother and stuffs a fork into his mouth.

Watching him inquisitively, Michael wonders, "You're not gonna sit down?"

"I'm fine leaning. Now, how normal?"

"I got a 98 on my Environmental Science test and a 91 on my book report."

"Good. Always good."

"I'd like to think so."

----

"Michael!"

He turns his head, surprised, and finds his teammate jogging toward him. Stopping in his tracks, Michael readjusts the backpack on his shoulder and turns sideways.

"Hey."

Jarrod huffs as he comes up, running a hand through his thick brown hair. "Hey."

"Just run the Peachtree Road Race?"

"Funny," Jarrod drawls, a wry smile dawning on his face as he quickly changes the subject. "I was wondering whether or not you were coming tonight?"

Michael quickly shakes his head and hooks his thumbs through the belt loops of his cargo shorts, pulling them up slightly. "I don't think so."

"Katie really wants Amy to go."

"Have I ever seemed like the party guy to you?"

"Yeah. Tenth grade, three weeks before the end of the school year. If I recall correctly, you were the one that didn't come to school for two days from a hangover."

"And I haven't been to a party since."

"Because you're chicken. You don't need to get drunk wherever you go, you know."

"I know. But I'm still trying to get on Amy's parents' good side. If anything goes wrong—"

"—Which it won't."

"But if anything does, I'll be taking the blame, not you."

"Then pray that it won't. You're a religious man and a good kid. God will listen." Jarrod smirks, folding his arms across his chest audaciously.

"Stop being a smartass," Michael retorts, pointing blatantly at his best friend as he begins to walk away.

"Hey, it's what I'm good at." He raises his hands in surrender and Michael flashes him a sarcastic smile.

"Are you sure about that?" A glare and a turned back is his response. Shaking his head, Michael jogs down the connecting hall and turns into the Three Hundred Hall on his left.

The whispers and giggles of his girlfriend and her best friend Katie lead him to locker one thousand, three hundred twenty-one.

Sneaking toward the pair, Michael places a finger to his lips when Katie's gaze flickers in his direction.

She is hunched, turning her locker's lock to the left, and he decides to take her by surprise. Fingers digging in full force, he tickles Amy into the lockers. The fabric of her orange halter obstructs him from her skin and he pushes it up slightly.

"Michael, stop!" she pleads with a giggle, a sound that delights his ears. "Please!"

"I'll see you guys later," Katie mutters from somewhere above their heads as her flip flops pad against the tile of the school floor.

Michael's fingers stop abruptly and he feels his girlfriend deflate in his hold. Bending over, he presses a kiss to her exposed neck as she falls to the floor.

"You suck," she pants, pushing herself up with her legs and grabbing her boyfriend's extended hand.

"And you would know?" Michael teases and she nods defiantly. "Really?"

"Of course. With the way you and Jarrod are always physically abusing each other whenever you pass in the halls, it's a wonder I'm the only one to ever notice."

"I can't believe you would say that." Placing a hand over his heart, Michael frowns and uses his other hand to draw Amy to him. "Take it back."

"Nope. It's true." His hand grips her upper arm lightly and she folds them to shake off his hold. However, she steps farther into his bubble until she's almost pressed against his body.

Shaking his head, Michael raises his eyebrows and leans in to kiss her but she quickly turns her cheek.

"Cold," Michael whispers into her ear and Amy involuntarily shudders. She faces him with a grin and welcomes his lips warmly.

Unfolding her arms, she slyly and slowly slides her hands into the front pocket of his shorts. Her thumbs play with the decorative zippers lining the seams and she presses herself into his body as best she can.

"What're you doing?" he mumbles into her mouth, pulling back to receive an answer.

"What?" she breathlessly asks, retreating as if to cover her tracks.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." A blush rises in her cheeks as she bows her head and stuffs her hands into the pockets of her denim shorts.

"Someone's becoming lustful, huh?"

"Michael," Amy warns as he runs both hands down her smooth arms.

"It's cute, though."

"Michael."

"Really," he reiterates, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her lips. "It's something to work on."

"Stop it!" Slapping his chest, she buries her face in his neck and wraps her arms around his waist. "You're mean."

"Says the girl who just tried to shoot the cat in a school hallway."

----

Amy stands beautifully against the hood of his silver-painted 1986 RX-7. She is a picture perfect image, similar to the ones in the damned _Playboy_ magazines his brother used to buy and collect. However, instead of wearing very little strips of clothing called bikinis, she wears her school clothes with a fabric-painted white T-shirt over her orange halter.

The T-shirt reads, "Michael Scofield," on the front and, "83," on the back, in support of Amundsen Tigers' seniors.

Michael strides, the gym doors slamming behind him, and adjusts his equipment bag on his shoulder. As he approaches his car and girlfriend, he silently drops the bag on the pavement.

Amy's back slumps forward, probably exhausted from sitting without a back support through seven innings of baseball and half an hour of waiting for him to leave the locker room, and she rests her elbows on her thighs.

He creeps ahead, pushing himself against the car when she turns her head to the left. She looks forward again and Michael continues until he's within reach.

"Hey there," he whispers into her ear.

Amy jumps a foot into the air and quickly turns to glare. "Why do you insist on scaring me like this?"

Knowing the question was rhetorical, Michael stands before her and takes her hands in his. "Thanks for the shirt," he whispers, leaning forward to peck her lips.

Smiling, she shrugs and pulls the shirt over her head. "You're welcome."

"I'm glad your parents let you stay," he admits, running both hands up her arms as she ties her hair into a messy bun atop her head.

"They don't mind. It's fine with them, as long as I'm home before midnight."

"Well, I guess that means I can't take you to that party after all," Michael states, a mischievous grin broadening across his face as he pulls Amy into his arms.

"No. We can still go."

"And who ever said I was going to take you?"

She glares and swathes her arms around his neck. "Well, _you_ mentioned the party."

"I know. But it's fun to make you irritated."

"You are so mean to me," she retorts quickly, shaking her head.

In response, Michael tenderly seizes her lips in his and holds her hips in his hands. He feels her fingers slip into his hair and tug at the roots. He feels her press her body against his and he can't protest.

A moan involuntarily escapes his throat as her tongue slips past his lips, and he senses the hints of a smile on her face.

Thinking fast, his fingers slide under the fabric of her shirt and pinch the skin of her sides.

"Oww!" Amy yelps, retreating so rashly that he accidentally bites her lip. "What did you do that for?"

No one ever said retaliation was painless.

---

**(A/N):** I've been working on this chapter since April. I don't know why it always takes me so long to finish. You know my other AU fic, _Spiraling_? I've been working on that since January and I still haven't finished the entire thing. Anyway, I will try my best to get the next chapter out in a week or two, I promise. But I have a fic for adinarj and for the PBFE Round Five due in not too long. I promised Adina a fic in about a week. Considering it's a different fandom, I can probably squeeze in the next chapter.

Anyway, please give me your thoughts! Critiques appreciated.


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